20

Across the city, OutrageousOllo came to a halt beside MadMikeMarsbergen's mutilated corpse. She fought back the tears, booted away some seagulls pecking at his eyeballs and severed wang, and hunkered down beside him. Ripping open her jean jacket, she readied the first—of about fifty—FAME-containing syringes.

After pricking him with each and every one, she waited.

She worried she was too late. If you didn't get the juice in their veins fast enough, they'd just stay dead and you'd be out of FAME. A total waste. What if he was dead? Her soul-mate would be gone. And you only get one of those. Once they go, that's it, you're done, no more.

Looking over at MadMikeMarsbergen, he was still quite dead. She sighed and started sobbing into her crossed arms.

A sneeze, a cough, a fart.

She turned and saw him sit up, take the dick out of his mouth and stare in horror.

Squealing with delight, she lunged at him, hugged him, kissed him, and then slapped him. "How dare you go and get yourself killed!"

"What? You were killed, too," he reminded her. "Your head was blown to smithereens and everything. I didn't slap you..."

"That was different," she told him. "I wasn't The Chosen One. We need to find Rick."

"And I need revenge on Lord WattPad." MadMikeMarsbergen keeled over and groaned. "Oooh... AH! AH! OH SHIT WOW HOLY!" He stared down at a bulge, bigger than his old one, running down the leg of his tights. Looked at his old dick, gave a proud pat to his new dick, and tossed the old one in the trash. "Where's my mask?" He looked around. "Oh well, not like nobody there knows who I am. C'mon, let's go kill Lord WattPad."

OutrageousOllo bounced up and down, then jumped on her reanimated husband's back.

They took off into the sky.

"Can I shove my foot up his ass?" she asked him.

"Olive, as far as I'm concerned, you can drive a minivan with a family of four up his ass."

21

They were back at the top of the tower, standing in Lord WattPad's enormous office. The window, which had been broken not too long ago, was now replaced. The glass shards had been picked up. Any damage done had been repaired. Lord WattPad's hairy assistant stood near the desk, staring solely up at the wall as if letting his eyes linger meant certain punishment would follow.

Ree watched Rick from the corner, licking his lips and running a finger up and down his trusty black colonoscope. It gave him the creeps, but what was even freakier was when Ree used the colonoscope as a makeshift whip, throwing it over each shoulder to lash his rear. Ree would make little squeaking noises when the scope made contact.

Lord WattPad powered up his laptop. "This used to belong to 'The Chosen One.' Psh. Chosen One. I'm the real Chosen One. I'm a god."

Mike's laptop, eh? The one supposedly with the bug that can change the whole world? Rick had a new idea, then. First, he would direct attention away from the subject. "Can I get a glass of water, or something? My throat's a bit itchy."

"Ape, go. Chop-chop."

The one called "ape" lumbered out of the room, grunting something under his breath.

Lord WattPad logged in. Decorating the background was a picture of him spreading his scrotum like it was a pair of wings for his little dink. "One of my favourite poses." He took off his "STALIN WAS GOIN' PLACES" top hat and set it down on the desk. His heat-straightened hair made him look like the frontman for a 2000s post-hardcore/metalcore/pop-punk band.

Next, Rick would bring the topic back to the laptop. Stifling a shudder at the background photo, and acting like he didn't know a thing about the laptop, he asked nonchalantly, "The Chosen One's laptop? Anything special about it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Rickoffer... HeheheHEHHA HAAAAA! It's got special powers. Occasionally I use 'em. Don't really need to now, though. Mostly I just use it to create new porn that didn't exist before. Like, have you ever heard of Siberian Elbow porn? It's where you get frostbite in your elbow, drill a hole through it and then let someone jam their—"

"Your water, sir," the assistant said, cutting in.

Rick accepted the glass, took a sip and set it down.

Making a few clicks, Lord WattPad handed the laptop away. "Read this, Rick. Tell me what you think. I greatly value your opinion, because you are my brother, and brothers stick together, right? It's about the times before I became your Glorious Leader, Lord, and Saviour."

Rick accepted it, resisting the urge to punch Lord WattPad in the nose for mentioning brothers, and read the title on the screen. "In the STARz," he said. "By Emmalee_Sky..."

"Had her type it up for me before I, y'know—" Lord WattPad ran his finger across his throat, then whistled, then made machine-gun sounds with his mouth. He sprayed spit in Rick's face. "For historic record."

Rick nodded, frowning. Wiped his face with a sleeve. He returned to the story.

In the STARz

by Emmalee_Sky

"The further down you go, the more you can see, and the more you can see, the harder it is to break free," Sylvia muttered, a cigarette on the tip of her lip. She spotted the pack. Ecrivain's Specials. The damn things would kill her, but she didn't care. Better than what'd really do her in.

"That's how they drew us all in." She looked at the tape recorder on the table. This was damn stupid, but the best way to get it out. Just batteries. No internet connection. "No Big Brother in the form of Wattpad." She tapped the recorder. "Since its start in 2006, twenty-four years ago, the simple writing website has taken the world by storm. By now, it's flooded across all the platforms, taking this company to a new level. Social media sites like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram—shit, they've ceased to exist. Wattpad's ground them into nothing. Why would you need all those when you had Wattpad? TV shows, movies, books, news, community? What was the damn point? Before the world knows it, the big orange W will take over the digital world. A slow climb to totally monopolizing the industry. Watch out, Google. You'll be next."

She lightly smacked her forehead. It was hard to stay focused. She shook her head again. Damn. But she had to hurry. Someone had to tell the world what was happening. Them Wattpad bastards thought they could get away with—

"You're getting ahead of yourself." She rolled her neck, shivered then scratched her inner left elbow.

Reaching for the glass of some no-name whiskey, she took a swig. It burned the whole way down. Slamming the glass on the table, a stack of cards tumbled over. Just like her mind. Tumbling and tumbling and tu— "Stop!" She shook her head.

"Sylvi, you've got to run! You're in danger. Heard it on the hike over. The wind said—"

Sylvia shook her head harder, rattling her brain. "You're not real. Not real. Not real. Not real." She dug her fingers into her temples. Concentrate. She couldn't let it get the best of her. She needed...

Clearing her throat, she scratched at her inner elbow again. "The faster I do this, the better. It's getting harder..." She took another drag off her cigarette, finishing it up. She got another. Yes, fill up on the nicotine. Hopefully before she lost her ever-loving mind. She licked her lips.

"Ever-loving?" She laughed. She sounded like a nut. What did it matter? She was loaded out of her mind, riding the tails of another trip, however short it might've been. She couldn't be expected to make any sense. And mixing in what had happened... Oh God. She was effing screwed.

But again, getting ahead of herself. She slapped her cheeks, the movement forcing a drop of ash to the table. She brushed it aside hastily. She curled up in the chair, bringing her knees to her chest. She stared at the cigarette for a moment.

"It all began with the next step as a Wattpadder or WattPadian, who the hell knew?"

***

Sylvia sat on her sofa, reading Joss Whedon's Fray #7 when her computer beeped. She tossed it aside. A new email from Wattpad? God, she hoped so. She'd just posted a short story, a tie between Sci-Fi and Fantasy, something new for her, and was dying to know what everyone thought.

Except it wasn't just any email from Wattpad. It was from the MOTHERSHIP. Holy crap. She plopped down before her laptop, hands shaking as she moved the mouse. An invite to join the Stars Program. Oh God. It was happening. The Stars Program was the next step for any writer. It came out in late 2015, and as the years passed, they turned into the cream of the crop. Having been on their Featured list for years, from one story to another, Sylvia had gained a steady following over the years. To be invited... She couldn't believe it.

She said yes. Was there ever a question about it? Being a Wattpad Star meant going places. With Wattpad ruling the internet, the Stars got the best opportunities. Writing whatever they wanted. For TV shows, movies, articles; hell, you named it, a Star was there. They were the new celebrities. At the top of the world now were writers.

And Sylvia was one step closer to that.

The next day, she received an email about a Stars-Program party at headquarters that weekend. This was her big chance. Make connections, network. With a quick call to her parents telling them she was traveling for work—Hey! Keeping up on Wattpad is work!—she bought her ticket.

She'd been waiting forever for an opportunity like this. Forgoing the dental business like her mama or the IT venture like her papa. Writing, and joining Wattpad in that role, was all she ever wanted to do.

The week passed quickly. The flight across the country from Florida to Toronto was excruciatingly long. Once it landed, she had just enough time to hit the hotel, drop her stuff, get a quick shower then head over to headquarters. It took up a city block now with the enormous orange W that could probably be spotted from space.

Sylvia stumbled through the doors, catching all the movement in a haze. New robots, she didn't want to think AI, 'cause that scared the bejesus out of her, though she knew it was on the ups. But everything here was state of the art, high-tech, computers, and security.

She was escorted to a ballroom with tables and a stage. She stood there, staring for a moment. Was that Anna Todd? Sylvia hadn't read the After series, but that didn't mean she didn't know the woman. It'd been about ten, twelve years since she made it big. Sylvia wasn't much of a fan but couldn't help being a little star-struck. Here was someone who'd started off with FanFiction, like her, and made it big turning her story into an original work. She had to applaud her.

Within moments, a woman appeared; dark, wavy hair and the sweet dimples that made her heart jump.

"And you're Sylvia, right? Sylvia Davis?" When she nodded, the woman shook her hand. "I loved Spark in the Dark. Oh, oh, and the first one in that universe, Firecracker. I know it's a bit away from your usual work, giving a little Sci-Fi, but— Oh my God! I'm totally gushing. I'm Taby. I'm the Stars Welcoming Community, kind of." She laughed.

Sylvia blinked. Wow. Whirlwind. Shocked that this woman, who worked for Wattpad, knew so much about her writing blew her mind. She cleared her throat, rubbing her sweating hands against her jeans. "Th-Thank you, Taby. It's nice to meet you."

Taby grinned. "Aren't you just the cutest?" Wrapping an arm around Sylvia's shoulders, she turned her to the crowd. "Guys, our newest addition is here!"

The entire group spoke at once. She blinked again, overwhelmed.

"Slow down!" Taby cracked up. "Oh, oh, someone get the hat!"

"The hat?" Sylvia's forehead furrowed.

"Yeah, you'll see." There were those adorable dimples.

Sylvia licked her lips.

Taby grinned. "There it is!"

Sylvia turned to see an enormous hat. She gawked. They couldn't be serious. The thing was a bit much, like an exaggerated top hat. Faded pages painted on top of each other, writing indescribable, and an ink bottle attached to a faded red cloth wrapped at its base, with a quill, the feather taller than the hat. It also looked like ink had spilled on the hat above the cloth, and in white letters 'Once upon a time...' had been scribbled.

Taby took it and walked over, holding it out to her.

"You're kidding." Sylvia frowned.

Grinning, Taby put it on. It dropped over Sylvia's head, and the ballroom laughed.

Fixing it, Sylvia blushed, settling it at an angle so it wouldn't slide down again. "You were serious. Ugh. Is this a hazing stint or something?"

"It looks good on you." Taby ran her hand down Sylvia's shoulder to her hand. "Come, you should meet..."

And off Taby took her, introducing her to the other Stars.

*

Standing by the bar, Sylvia watched two more Stars disappear behind a door. She'd counted thirteen people who went back there and hadn't returned. She took a sip of her rum-and-coke. What was happening back there? Should she check it out? Maybe it was an extended part to the festivities?

"So this is where you ran off to," Taby said, leaning against the bar. "What's—" She followed Sylvia's gaze. "Oh!"

"What's back there?" She couldn't help asking.

"Want to see?" Taby wiggled her eyebrows.

Sylvia blushed. "I— If I shouldn't—"

Taby laughed, taking Sylvia's glass from her hands and putting it on the bar. She slipped her arm through Sylvia's. "C'mon!"

Sylvia grinned as they reached the doors. It led to a white hallway with quotes, pictures and titles lining it. Sylvia caught a bunch she knew, but those were overtaken by a million others. This community's size was mind-boggling. Her smile grew. She was part of this community now and damn proud, too.

"Here we are." Taby pushed another door open, leading her in.

Sylvia stopped. But it wasn't the huge bright-orange room or the soft instrumental music playing. No, it was the dozens of beds filled with Stars, arms attached to the medical poles you saw in hospitals. They twitched, mumbled, but were unconscious.

"What the—" Sylvia backed up, but Taby stopped her. "Hey! Let go!"

"Now, Sylvia. Relax. Let's— Please, don't resist. It'll be fine. Just—"

"No! I know the Dark Side when I see it, unlike Anakin! I won't be part of it!" Sylvia fought, but she was forced on a bed. She kicked, screamed, but it was pointless as Taby and a man bound her.

"There's no need to scream. It's fine," Taby told her.

Sylvia tried to yank her arm away when the man stabbed her left arm with a needle. "Don't!" Oh God. What had she gotten into? Was this even Wattpad? What if it was some fake company that kidnapped unsuspecting young women? What if— Her body relaxed, worries fading away.

"There we go." Taby grinned. She ran her hand over Sylvia's forehead. "It's starting. This drug is called WPSTARz, but in The Program, it's known as STARz. It's amazing. It'll make you feel, see, experience things like your creative mind never imagined. It's experimental right now, but it's the highlight of The Program. That's what everyone—"

But Sylvia stopped listening, sinking into the bed then, further and further, and she knew no more.

*

"What was that?" a voice asked.

"Maybe it was the wind. She's sure talkative lately," another answered.

Sylvia blinked up at a cloudy sky. She frowned, sitting up. To her left, she saw two figures in a grassy area. No, a meadow. A meadow she recognized. Holy shit. She blinked, taking in the outline of trees, wild grass, little white flowers, but Sylvia knew they were weeds. Her mama used to get mad when she said the lawn looked pretty with the white flowers. She'd tell Sylvia they were actually weeds and killing the lawn, but she didn't care. They were pretty, and they filled the meadow with actual flowers. Some tickseed, swamp sunflowers and others—names, information passing through her mind as she stared.

This was her world. Her world. The one she created in her mind and was still in the process of putting together. Like Taby had said: a combination of Fantasy, with its elemental abilities and demons, plus Sci-Fi aspects like transferring between worlds. She'd only just posted two short stories, still feeling it out. Trying her hand at a different genre than her Fantasy or Paranormal ones. But here it was, spread out before her. Nature in her ear without the constant sounds of Florida in the present time. Endless, hurried, loud.

A chuckle pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see her main character, Siora and her lover, Kayd, going at it. She'd thought they heard her, but that couldn't be right. Shaking her head, she laughed. Was any of this right?

Sylvia stiffened when she spotted the air ripple. A disturbance in reality, then a demon tumbled through. Travel through the worlds was the Goddess' power, but there was no way in hell She created this opening. She'd helped Siora and Kayd's people leave that world. Sylvia had been playing with idea, trying to figure out how this opening happened. Maybe when they came here, something went over there? Science made its way to the magical world? She liked that idea. It worked—

Siora screamed. Kayd cursed. Sylvia watched as they turned—

*

Sylvia was back, gasping awake. She lifted a shaky hand to her forehead, brushing away sweat-matted hair. Holy shit. She'd been in her world, seen her characters, and watched a new scene play out. She needed to get back. She opened her mouth, but it was dry. She licked her lips. Still dry. She straightened then noticed a man sitting in a chair next to the bed.

He smiled. "Sylvia. How are you feeling?" He handed her a glass of water. "I'm Vick, Head of the Stars Program."

Her hand shook as she took a sip. "Have to go back."

He chuckled. "WPSTARz. It's great, isn't it?" He tapped the bag attached to the pole. "It's a benefit only given to Stars. A combination of hallucinogenic drugs and bits of dissociative ones. I won't go into too much detail because... well, I don't understand it too well myself." He laughed. "Here at Wattpad, our scientists have been working on it. This new batch is great. There hasn't been any side effects, but it's still experimental. Plans to patent it are in the process, but it's all hush-hush, you understand. It's just for Stars—" And on he went, but she wasn't listening. She looked down at her hands.

So the drugs took her to her world. Chemicals in her brain, mixed with the drugs, gave her an out-of-body experience in a world she created in her mind. God, she needed more. She wanted to go back. "Can I go back now?" she cut him off.

He blinked, then laughed. "Don't you want to have some breakfast first?"

She startled. "Breakfast?" She fumbled for her phone on a table beside the bed. It was 9 AM on Saturday morning. She'd been under STARz all night.

"Let's get you fed first." Vick helped her to her feet.

She did. Food barely off her plate before she hurried back to the room, sliding into the first available bed. She inserted the needle sloppily, but she didn't care. She wanted more. More. More...

*

Standing at the airport, waiting for her flight to start boarding Sunday night, Sylvia didn't know what to do with herself. The weekend flew by after that. She spent every free moment she wasn't eating under STARz. She wanted to stay, wanted to slip under and discover her world in a new way. It was amazing, watching characters interact, fighting against demons that slipped into their world. She learned more about the characters, the Isle of Dree, their home, and what was to come for the story. But now that it was over... she had to wait for the next party. According to Vick it was next month. Next month? How could she wait that long?

And she also hadn't gotten a chance to see Taby again. She wanted to apologize for the way she'd reacted. She hoped the other woman wasn't avoiding her.

Boarding began. With a sigh, Sylvia followed the others. How was she supposed to live so mundanely until the next party now that she knew STARz existed?

Patiently.

*

A week passed, and Sylvia barely moved from her desk chair. She typed furiously, trying to get out as much as possible from what STARz had given her. She pushed out a lot within those seven days. All she could do was write. She ignored the outside world. Her family and friends? What did they matter in the scheme of things? She needed to write. Damn, if she had more STARz she could take a break but still work, and wouldn't that just be superb?

She fought a yawn when there was a knock. She got to her feet, grabbing a robe on the couch when she passed. She rolled her neck, then opened the door. She blinked. "Taby?"

"Wow, not company-ready, I see," the woman said, chuckling.

"Sorry!" Sylvia blushed, closing the robe and brushing a hand through her messy curls. "Hi."

"Good afternoon. Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Taby stepped on her toes, trying to see around her.

Sylvia blushed even further. "Of course not. Come in. Sorry for the mess. I've— Well, I've kind of been on a roll lately."

"I know! Your updates have been blowing up my email. I love it!" She grabbed Sylvia's hands and squeezed them. "Isle of Dree and Siora and Kayd and demons and magic and traveling between worlds! Oh my God! It's amazing!" Taby jumped with every word.

Sylvia laughed. "Thank God. I was worried it felt off."

"It's fantastic." Taby hugged her.

Sylvia's heart just about jumped out of her chest.

"And because you're doing so well, I brought you a gift." She shook her purse, dimples appearing. "I'm hoping you'll reward me, too."

Her look set Sylvia's cheeks blazing. God, yes. What she pulled out made Sylvia's heart kick up even faster. Six bags of STARz. "What do you think?"

*

The next forty-eight hours were a mix of STARz and sex, her characters and Taby, dream-world and reality.

*

Half-collapsed on her couch Tuesday night, Sylvia watched Taby pull on her panties. The woman was sin with dark skin and a trail of beauty marks down her back. Ever dedicated to her job, there was a small orange-and-white W on her inner thigh. Sylvia had spent some time with it.

"If you keep staring at me like that, I won't be able to leave." Taby buttoned up her white shirt.

"Don't want you to leave," Sylvia managed to say.

Laughing, Taby wiggled into her jeans. She walked over and leaned down. She kissed Sylvia, then collected the six empty bags of STARz. "How about I come back this weekend?"

"Perfect." Sylvia grabbed the bottom of her shirt, pulling her down for another kiss. "See you later."

Then with a wave, Taby shut the door behind her.

*

This went on for a few weeks. Every few days, Taby showed up with STARz, and they'd lose themselves in the drug, writing, and sex.

Today, she showed up with something special, a new batch. While they lay naked in front of Sylvia's couch. She scratched her inner elbow and smiled. "Ready."

Taby nodded, injecting the needle, and a few moments later down Sylvia went.

The second Sylvia woke up she knew something was wrong. She'd been able to engage her characters, but there'd been a misunderstanding, and she'd been burned. Couldn't really blame Siora but damn it hurt. Waking up, the pain was still there in her right shoulder.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her hand hovered over the spot.

"What's wrong?" Taby asked.

Sylvia touched the spot. She gasped. "I'm hurt."

"That's a new side effect. It's fine. It'll go away soon, I'm sure." Taby ran her hand up Sylvia's naked thigh. "The scientists tweaked it, giving it a more realistic effect, but if it's not right... I'll talk to them. The next batch'll be fine. I swear."

Biting her tongue, Sylvia touched the burn again.

"Want another go?" Taby grinned.

"Yes" spilled from her lips before she'd even thought about it. The truth was, she was too enamoured with STARz and her world. She couldn't stay away.

*

The tablet shook in Sylvia's hands. Putting it down, she clenched her hands. It wouldn't stop. A week had passed since the last Star party at Headquarters. Maybe that was why...

She cleared her throat, staring at the name but not seeing it.

Wattpad Star DEAD

Her heart pounded. That was bad. The front door opened from behind her, but she didn't look up, staring at the man in the picture. A kiss on her neck stirred her.

"What're you— Oh," Taby said, sitting beside her. "Terrible, isn't it?"

"So sad. What was the cause?" Sylvia couldn't help but ask.

"It's not in the article? Probably health issues," Taby said. "Ready?" She pulled out the bags. "I've missed you so much."

Sylvia kissed her, forgetting the world.

*

Second Wattpad Star DEAD

Something was stuck in Sylvia's throat. Still there, no matter how many times she cleared it. Shit. She scratched at her left arm and shivered. What was going on? There was no news on the dead woman. What killed her? Another no-name to her. She should've known her. Should've spent more time getting to know the other Stars at The Program parties instead of going under. So many should-haves.

Where was Taby? Sylvia thought, scratching her arm again. She twitched. She took a sip from the whiskey bottle.

*

"Oh, baby."

Sylvia looked up from her pile on the couch. Taby walked in, shutting the door behind her. She dropped her bag and hurried over.

"What's wrong?"

She lifted up the tablet, her hands shaking.

THIRD DEAD WATTPAD STAR. TREND?

Taby snorted. "Sticking it to The Man? You can't believe them, Sylvia."

Sylvia shivered, then rolled her neck. "So STARz isn't the cause?" She hated asking. That drug was everything. It made her a rising star on Wattpad, her stories loved by all.

"Of course not!" Taby shook her head. "Would something so good do something like that?"

"Of course not." Sylvia shook her head. Of course Taby was right.

"Good." Taby reached over the couch and pulled out bags. "New heady stuff. The scientists really outdid themselves this time. We're showcasing this at the next Program party."

Sylvia was laying back on her couch, Taby sticking the needle in her left arm before she even realized.

*

Sylvia was screwed. It was WPSTARz killing the Stars. She knew it. She stared down at the tablet, shaking. Oh God. This drug killed four people. What was she doing taking it? Loving it? Needing it?

The door opened and slammed. Sylvia didn't even look. The only one who came to see her anymore was Taby. She didn't have anyone else. Family and friends? What a joke. They abandoned her. Sylvia scratched her head. "It killed her, didn't it?"

Taby sighed. "Yes." She sat on the couch. "The three others, too. They died under STARz, then died in real life. With the same fatal blow. The scientists—"

"Oh my God." Sylvia stumbled from the couch, but her legs barely carried her. She righted herself against her desk. "Oh shit."

"Don't panic." Taby got to her feet. "It's fine. The formulas were off, but they swear they've got it right now. It's okay."

"No, it's not!" Sylvia scratched at her neck then her head. She twitched. "It's so far from okay!"

"Sylvia." Taby sighed, then jumped forward, something flashing in her hands.

"What the fu—" Sylvia dodged but stumbled and the needle hit her in the neck. "No!"

Taby took out her cell phone when Sylvia hit the floor. "Hey, it's me. Yeah. Went as planned." Sylvia watched Taby walk to her laptop. She waved her hand in front of the webcam. "Better cut if off. No, I understand. Shame. But with this, the last bit of evidence of the bad batch is gone. I'll put the information on her laptop. Yeah, it'll look like she tried making some herself since she got addicted, then shared it with some of her Star friends. No, I stopped by the warehouse where she baked it up before coming. No, I understand. I'll—"

And down Sylvia went.

*

"You shouldn't be here. You've got to get out of here. It's too dangerous."

Sylvia blinked. She stood before Siora, who waved her hands in her face. "Sylvi, you've got to run! You're in danger. Heard it on the hike over. The wind said—"

"Too late." They both turned. A woman with a dark ponytail ran towards them. She looked like Taby, but that couldn't be right. It was impossible to share hallucinations.

Siora pushed her out of the way but then blinked out. What the hell? That'd never happened before.

"Sorry, but this is the only way," the woman said, then kicked her feet out from under her.

Gasping, Sylvia got to her feet and ran. Coward's way or not, she'd be alive. She heard the woman behind her but she wouldn't stop. Finally, she reached the cliff. There was a climactic scene here in a future series in the Essential Chronicles—she'd been thinking about it lately, forming it in her mind.

It was a hard spot to see, the cliff barely visible, so when she jumped out of the way, the woman stumbled, waving her arms.

For a moment, Sylvia stared at her, and it was Taby. Her heart clenched, and she reached for her. Their hands brushed, but then Taby was falling, her scream exploding—

*

Sylvia gasped awake. She coughed, rolling onto her side, and there was Taby, staring at her with wide, empty eyes. Drenched. Sylvia's hand shook as she checked for a pulse.

She was dead. Just like the other Wattpad Stars. Just like she'd almost been. She struggled to her feet, collapsing against her desk. Her hands brushed against papers. She moved some aside, spotting intense equations and information on hallucinogens and dissociative drugs. Precise formulas to create a batch of WPSTARz.

What she'd heard from Taby was true. Wattpad wanted to frame her for the deaths. Oh God. What the hell was she going—

A pounding on the door made her jump.

"MDPD, Sylvia Davis!"

Her eyes widened. The police? What the— She looked down at Taby's body, then the text on her computer. Not just four deaths—five. She was screwed.

She turned and escaped out the window, leaving everything as it was.

*

The motel door closed behind her. She leaned back against it, heart pounding. How did this happen? She scratched her neck, clenching the tape recorder in her hand. She stumbled to a wobbly table, collapsing in the chair.

She knew what she had to do. She rubbed her mouth, then scratched her left arm. Share the evil that was Wattpad, show the world what kind of monster that giant orange W was, and what it'd do to keep face. Frame innocent people.

She'd tell her story and pull the rug out from under them before they took over the digital age. With this tape recorder, she'd reveal their demons. No internet connection. That was important. She figured this dingy motel didn't have any. Wattpad could be watching. Maybe STARz was making her more paranoid. Or maybe it's true what they say.

"The further down you go, the more you can see, and the more you can see, the harder it is to break free."

***

"I'm an addict. And while I once thought that helped my writing, now that I'm finishing this tape, I've been forced to think about it. The idea that the creative endeavour and mind-altering substances are entwined is one of the great pop-intellectual myths of our time... Substance-abusing writers are just substance abusers—common garden-variety drunks and druggies, in other words. Any claims that the drugs and alcohol are necessary to dull a finer sensibility are just the usual self-serving bullshit. I've heard alcoholic snowplow drivers make the same claim, that they drink to still their demons."

She cleared her throat as she filled her glass with the last bit of whiskey. She drank it all in one sip.

"Now, as I contemplate it all, I've learned something about writing. Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy." She sighed, scratching at her elbow. "And don't ever forget it, or you'll become an addict and be chased after a shady multi-media company. Then your life is over. That's it, I think. Sylvia Davis, people. The end, I suppose."

She slipped the tape recorder into an envelope. Scratching her elbow, she looked at it. She needed to get it out, and do it quickly before they found her. They were coming, no doubt about it. She snuck inside the lobby and scared the crap out of the manager.

"M-Miss. I didn't see you there." He pulled on his collar. "Something I can help you with?"

"I need you to ship this. Let—" She cleared her throat. "Let me write down the address." She moved around the desk and grabbed a post-it. He'd know what to do with it. After finishing, she peeked up and noticed the light from the webcam flash off. She straightened. Damn! They found her.

She hightailed it out of the lobby, the manager calling after her. She slid on the soft pebbles on the asphalt when she skidded to a stop before her car. She fumbled the keys. Oh God. She bent down to pick it up when a light flashed on her. It had an orange tint. She held up her arm, trying to see, as a figure approached.

"Ms. Davis?" he asked.

She backed up against the car, eyes wide. It was a man, but he was hairy, like an ape. Oh God. No. Not him. If he was here, she was—

FIN.

22

"Whatcha think? Pretty gay, right?"

"Gay?" Rick asked, not understanding.

"Gay means stupid, genus. I should call you Adolf Weinstein, lulz. Duh," Lord WattPad muttered, rolling his mascara-heavy eyes.

"I don't understand. It didn't seem stupid to me at all. It was a tale about how easy it is to fall into the bad crowd when you're given the opportunity to climb the social ladder."

"The old Star thing—not the story itself. How they drugged people. So gay. Not like these days. We don't force people to take drugs. All because of me. Bow to me."

"I'm not going to bow to you."

"Fine, then at least suck on my toes a little bit. No? Psh. You're lame. What would you prefer—STARz or FAME?"

"Don't know. Never tried either."

"Ever shot FAME into your dick? Even better than plugging Viagra mixed with ground rhino horn."

"Again, never tried it."

"Allen and his Wattpad was so corrupt back then. Not like me. They framed poor Sylvia—who was based on a real woman—for those murders. I've never framed anyone."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rick asked, feeling himself getting angry. "You framed The Chosen One for all sorts of horrible crimes! You said he abducted kids and baked them into pies! Not only that, but you shot my fucking long-lost brother to pieces right in front of me! You're a fucking monster, you asshole!"

Lord WattPad shrugged and yawned. "That was, like, sooo totally different. Anywho, our system is, like, so much better. Who cares if the ranking system is rigged? Have you seen those gay fucking stories those nobodies write? 'The Bad Boy Sucked My Hard Dick and I Liked It'? Yeah, who wouldn't? Save your stupid shitty diary for someone who gives a flying fuck, you dumb peasant. 'Generica Fantastica'? Ooh, watch out! Another shitty fantasy series with perfect elves and evil gremlins and girly dudes with blond pigtails! I bet it's a trilogy where every book has pretty much the same fucking subtitle! Tolkien called—he wants all his shitty ideas back. 'Teenage Girl V the World'? Wow, haven't seen that one before! A teenage girl with no discernable skills or noticeable qualities is the only one who can bring down the dystopian government. She outsmarts the intellectually superior adults, she discovers the meaning of her unique name in an important plot point, and she gets caught up in a whirlwind triangular romance! Fucking yawn! You see why I rig the ranking, Rickoffer? You fucking see why I keep the best of the best at the very top, and keep them alive forever? Huh? Do you understand why I do what I do!?"

"Yeah."

"It drives me up the fucking wall that people actually call me out on this shit. I know what they say. I know they don't worship the ground I fucking walk on. I'm not stupid. Sure, I pretend like everybody loves me, but I know they don't. So what if I have people killed. They're useless. They're all fucking useless. Unless they submit to me. Those fucks. And when they submit, they become great. They become Stars. And it gives people hope. They think—no matter how much they fucking suck—they think that they can become Stars, too. But they won't. Because only the best become Stars. And I know the best. I made Wattpad what it is. Not allenlau, that fuck. Nobody except me. And without me, this whole fucking world would turn to shit so fast it'll make your head spin! It would be a dump! You and everyone else would be reading the worst goddamn trash, you'd claw your own fucking eyes out!"

Lord WattPad took a deep breath. He trembled and sweat dripped from his temples. He combed his wet hair back from his forehead. "Ape, I need my crayon changed. Now."

Rick watched on in silence, too disturbed to do much else, as Lord WattPad's rectal crayon was replaced by his assistant.

The man was quite obviously insane. Whether it was because of prolonged isolation, artificial longevity, never having anyone say no to him, abuse as a child, or a mixture of everything—Rick didn't know or really care. But there was a strange level of care Lord WattPad showed for writing... He hated the idea of the "unworthy" attaining fame, hated the idea of lesser writers being perceived as being on the same level as the writers he deemed to be the cream of the crop. He was an elitist, certainly, but he also simply wanted to set a standard level of quality others would strive to match.

Rick didn't agree with Lord WattPad's methods—hell no—but perhaps there was something about the man's goal Rick could appreciate. He'd read many books by the supposed "no-name" writers and had found them to be unsatisfactory at best. The real professionals made it look easy. They made it look like they barely had to try—which was not, it needed to be said, the same as not trying. The Stars were, for the most part, Stars for a reason—though he was a bit bummed some of his favourites had been murdered by the bastard in front of him getting a blue crayon shoved up his ass.

And he'd never forgive the bastard for killing Phil.

23

Lord WattPad was strangely calm and quiet after his tantrum. He sat in his chair, mumbling occasionally about how he felt "quite blue," and reread his favourite stories by various Stars—some of whom he'd had murdered. He wiped tears from his eyes when he read one of eyeexeyeeye's stories about watching the destruction of Earth from the relative safety of the Moon.

"I-I never should have had him killed!" he sobbed. "B-B-But you and him w-were going to d-d-dam-damage my rep-rep-reputation! It was for the good of Wattpad! It had to be done!"

Rick stood in silence. Lord WattPad had the remarkable ability to blame others for everything bad, and praise himself for everything good—even if it, respectively, had everything and nothing to do with him.

Thankfully the pity party ended early, as The Chosen One smashed through the window and got glass in Lord WattPad's hair.

"What the hell! I just conditioned this 'do this morning!" he whined, shaking shards loose from his head. Then he saw who had done it. "Oh. It's you."

"Did someone order a new box of crayons?" Mike growled. "Here's a new colour: light-of-justice white!"

Lord WattPad stared blankly. "I don't get it."

"...because I'm The Chosen One, and comments like that are kind of my thing?" To Olive he added, "I knew I should've found my mask."

"Oh! I thought you were just being MadMikeMarsbergen! Okay, then. Ree, kill this stupid motherfucker."

"Rith rleasure," Ree said, readying his assault rifle.

"Wait—" Mike stepped forward, hand over his mouth. "Renneth? Renneth Ree? By golly, you're alive!"

Ree looked to Lord WattPad and shrugged.

"Don't you remember me, bud? Best friends forever? I cradled you while you died. Two years ago. Way up north. Your guts were falling out of you. We were trying to find my laptop. You don't remember, do you." Mike wiped a tear from his cheek. "Because you're not really Renneth Ree, are you? I thought your head seemed a little too large."

"ERROR. DANGER. ERROR." Ree seemed confused. He frowned and looked to Lord WattPad again.

Lord WattPad stomped his feet. "Kill him already, you stupid fool!"

Rick, feeling a renewed strength, leapt from his position and collided with Ree. The gun clattered across the floor, and they both went down. He ripped off the man's Matrix sunglasses and wasn't surprised to find they were—

"Robotic," said Mike. "Of course. I should've known."

Ree's too-wide eyeballs turned left and right, red-irised and whirring.

Olive grabbed the glass of water from the desk and splashed it into the Ree-thing's eyes.

Ree's eyes sparked, spitting sizzling-hot liquid before the whole head went up in flames, a grease fire waiting to happen. The artificial skin melted like wax, congealing to the floor.

"NOOOOOO! THAT COST ME OODLES OF MONEY! Oodles..." Lord WattPad slumped to the floor and sobbed.

Ree's lab coat tore open and a little pink creature scurried out on eight metal legs. It had one enormous bloodshot eye and little fists it used to work the levers that controlled the legs. "The Lazaarians will one day get their revenge on you, stupid humans." The thing jumped out the window and was never seen or heard from again.

"Didn't know that was in there," said Lord WattPad.

"Shut your scumhole." The Chosen One put the bastard in handcuffs and threw him against the wall. "You're under arrest for murder, murder, murder, and—hey, what's this?—more murder."

TheGorillatan emerged from hiding and stood in front of his former master. "I've been waiting a long time for this, sir." He unzipped his pants and pulled out his Wookie.

They waited three whole minutes before TheGorillatan unleashed a dribble of hot piss in Lord WattPad's face.

"That's for killing my brother," he snivelled when he was done.

The Chosen One dusted his palms. "Well that takes care of that. Yup. Lord WattPad is going away for a loooong time."